I've been thinking about posting this for the past 3 weeks, and February ends in a little over a week. That just about explains how January felt.
It's odd because I have tried to work on putting January into categories and small blurbs for nearly a month now, but I simply cannot. Even right now, on a rainy Monday night, I typed out all the category headers, italicized, centered, capitalized them as I do monthly, then erased it all.
January was filled with dancing around the furniture in friends bedrooms, sitting in the corners of rooms filled with blacklights and smoke, dumplings with garlic sauce.
January started so differently than it ended, which hasn't happened often for me in the past. It felt good though.
January was calling out of work a few hours before, and then having to pick up the morning shift the day after, ears and head still ringing with the shitty music from the night before.
January was old songs becoming my friends new favorites, and windows down even though the heat in the car was all the way up.
January was watching the same movies over and over, with different people, and sometimes with the same ones.
January was laughing to try to warm up, and not enough layers, and too many greasy fries at too late of a time.
January was saying "yeah I'm done" to be able to go do what I actually wanted to, just to have to finish whatever assignment needed to be done under my string lights and 4 blankets in the middle of the night.
January was celebrating birthdays with chocolates and bubble tea.
January was wanting to stand still, but constantly moving anyway.
January was missed calls and unsent texts, that were returned & sent after multiple existential crises, respectively.
January was waking up in the same sweater I had gone out in, and losing my favorite glasses, and getting in past my mom's newly found curfew, and passing my road test with flying colors.
January was new stains on old clothes, and wet socks inside of sneakers covered in snow, and paying attention to all the little things, because it seemed like there was nothing else to do.
January was taking the long way home.